


Hazey

by taekaneru, topkyungsoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Music Producer Park Chanyeol, Pain Kink, Park Chanyeol Gets a New Tattoo, Strangers to Lovers, Tattoo Artist Do Kyungsoo | D.O, tattoo artist au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taekaneru/pseuds/taekaneru, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topkyungsoo/pseuds/topkyungsoo
Summary: Dear D.O.,the mail reads,I’m sorry for spamming you with mails, but when I discovered your work, I knew you’d be the artist I’d been looking for the whole time. I’m not gonna ramble away too much here, but I can say as much: I’d be an honor to be the canvas for your next project.Or:Kyungsoo does no bullshitting, but there's this annoyingly persistent Chanyeol dude that'sbeggingfor a tattoo appointment with him.[ For top!soo fest round 4: Tattoo Artist AU ]
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 12
Kudos: 100
Collections: top!soo fest: round 4 (2020-2021)





	Hazey

**Author's Note:**

> For TOP!SOO Fest, Prompt: Tattoo Artist AU
> 
> Thank you so much, dear mods, for this magnificent fest! I’m honored to be part of this round. I’ve been _dying_ for a wholesome ChanSoo Tattoo Artist AU for _ages_ , really, and this fest finally prompted me with the perfect occasion to dig up my ancient draft of a fic that I had sitting on my drive since I started writing ChanSoo.
> 
> Thank you also to my amazing beta, [@fefiflower](https://twitter.com/fefiflower). It was a pleasure working with you ♥! All remaining errors are my own.
> 
> Title is from the song Hazey by the magnificent Glass Animals.

Inbox( **1** ): _You got one new mail!_

Again. It’s 9 am.

Kyungsoo clenches his teeth. It’s _again_ that Chanyeol dude. Fuck, why.

How many mails have there been last week alone? Seven? And now another one, Monday morning, even before he’s had his second cup of coffee.

Does this man not know what spam is?

He’d mostly ignored the last mails on his work mail account as they had been either advertisement or people wanting absolutely preposterous tattoos. But as tempting as the promoted high-tech top-notch window glazing had been: The windows in his house are already impeccable, thank you. The people wanting just tiny mouse tattoos or dolphins or, god forbid, _tribals?_ _No,_ thank you. 

Mails like that appear so fucking often now that he cannot be arsed to read even one of them more carefully than just glancing over it in two seconds.

Baekhyun will probably just scoff at him in this aloof fashion of his and tell him that his mess is homemade. As long as he doesn’t take on tattoo projects, Baekhyun will keep pestering him about another one of his art exhibitions anyway, stating that he’ll need to earn money _somehow._

While the two exhibitions that Baekhyun talked him into admittedly had been a huge success, creating him a name outside of the tattoo scene in the art world (and making it possible to buy his fancy Zen-style architect house in the outskirts of Seoul), he still prefers tattooing to the fine arts.

Working on a living being, carving black inks into soft skin, feels like a profession, not like a mere job. It’s his way to let himself come true. Fine arts, creating the large canvases with intricate drawings and inky black lines is fun, but only so much. On top, fine arts comes with Baekhyun, who’s wedged himself into his life as his gallerist and something that he calls ‘a friend’, suggesting the exhibitions even before he’d been bored enough to think about them himself.

The lack or drought of his tattoo projects might be, and this is where Baekhyun is annoyingly right, the result of his rigorous selection process. After his apprenticeship, he’d worked at his mentor’s studio for five years before he’d decided he didn’t want to do mandalas, dotwork, and other mainstream stuff anymore. He’d felt caged in by the need to appeal to the customers, them rarely giving him artistic freedom. His mentor had been understanding, taking over the annoying clients himself, but ultimately he’d initiated that Kyungsoo set up his own business.

Three more years had allowed him to select his clients, finding his spot as a tattoo artist in large scale blackwork, mostly abstract and typographic, calligraphic work.

Then Baekhyun had found him in a dry spell between two projects and they’d stomped out the first exhibition with a dozen paintings. After a week, all of them had sold out at dizzying prices, thanks to Baekhyun’s flawless marketing skills and sales talent (or his reluctance to ever shut up).

Thereafter, the second exhibition had pushed the prices for his work into astronomical heights. Subsequently, the freedom of financial independence had only made the righteousness of his decisions stronger, so he’d switched to accepting only a few handpicked clients a year.

 _Certainly_ not clients as obsessive as this Chanyeol, with all his relentless friendliness that did not account for the lack of response by Kyungsoo in any way.

He sighs, fingers clenching around his cup, head resting on his desk in front of the keyboard.

Just ignore it.

_Ignore it._

Don’t get worked up. Just select and move to the inquiries folder… for later consideration. Where later might mean never. Doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not forced to accept a client yet…

Chin on the table, he squints at the monitor, creeps his fingers onto the keyboard, clicks on the mail, and presses Ctrl-Shift-M-I at once. ‘Dear D.O.,’ the mail reads before it’s sorted away into the inquiries folder.

Heaving a relieved sigh, he leans back in his chair and looks out of the window. The sky is overcast today, it looks like it will probably rain by noon.

Kyungsoo lets his gaze roam over the large firs and the sturdy old maple tree in front of the house. The windows reach from the floor to the ceiling, replacing a whole part of the wall of the front of the house. The view onto the trees and down to the lower valley of Seoul in the distance, the style and the peace this beautiful house gives him were the reasons to move here in the first place.

Taking another sip of coffee, he observes a sleek black Audi pulling up to the curb of his driveway.

Speaking of the devil.

He’s got one minute, two at most, before Baekhyun spawns out of his car and leaps to the front door, impatiently vibrating to be buzzed in.

Kyungsoo only gets up after Baekhyun rings the bell when he’s completed counting to ten.

“If that isn’t my favorite grumpy artist!” The smile on Baekhyun’s face is blinding. Kyungsoo’s mood decidedly sours before he chooses resignation instead of indignation.

“Nice to see you too. What brings me the honor?”

He holds the door while Baekhyun hops in, carelessly toeing off his expensive leather shoes, making a beeline towards his computer.

“Just decided to stop by, see what my dear friend Kyungsoo is up to on this _wonderful_ Monday morning!”

Kyungsoo lets himself fall onto the black couch, watching Baekhyun hacking away on his keyboard. He’s no secrets, he’s given up on keeping them from Baekhyun anyway. He knows far too much about him already, no need to try and raise his suspicions by restricting access that Baekhyun will get anyway, no matter what.

Baekhyun wildly klicks around before soft music starts to filter through his sound system.

“Ah, just as I expected,” Baekhyun states. “You’ve been listening to this album nonstop since I played it on my last visit, I see?” he teases.

Kyungsoo grimaces into his cup.

 _Of course,_ Baekhyun is right, he’s recognized it immediately. It’s _1 Billion Views_ by LOEY. The amount he’s listened to the album and its predecessor might be something he may be not _that_ proud of.

“No,” he spites Baekhyun.

“Yes,” Baekhyun counters, “And you’re just saying that because you also listened to _What a Life_ like a man possessed. I can see your Spotify stats, you know.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know how Baekhyun has gained access to the stats, how are they even available for users?

“Don’t you want a coffee?” he offers instead, already on his way over to the kitchen.

“Yeah, knew you could read minds!” Baekhyun claps happily.

Kyungsoo busies himself with his coffee maker, grinding beans and pressing and tamping them for espresso. He selects a little cup as he hears an excited shout from over his desk.

“Wahh!!” Baekhyun cries, scraping the chair over the parquet. Kyungsoo winces, bringing the espresso over to set it onto the desk. Baekhyun is exasperatedly flouncing in his chair, feet bouncing as he points to the monitor.

“Do you actually _read_ your mails, Kyungja?!” he shouts, wiggling his finger. Kyungsoo just hopes he won’t touch the screen and _god,_ leave a greasy fingerprint.

“Mostly,” Kyungsoo states, squinting at the mail Baekhyun has opened. “Why?”

“ _This!_ This mail! _Kyungja_ , it’s from Park Chanyeol!”

Kyungsoo just looks at Baekhyun, uncomprehending. “Ah, yes?”

“That’s LOEY! Park Chanyeol! LOEY is his artist name! Kyungja, I’m sure! Here, it’s real, it’s even his studio’s mail address in the domain!”

Kyungsoo freezes.

“And those mails from last week here as well! Oh my god, Kyungja, he’s written at least ten times? Why didn’t you reply? _Oh my god!_ ”

“I… might not have read _all_ of my mails,” Kyungsoo says in lieu of a better answer, heat creeping into his cheeks and thawing him a little again.

“He’s your _favorite_ artist, and he wants a tattoo by you! _Oh my god_ , you cannot let this pass!”

Baekhyun is getting up from the desk and pushes Kyungsoo into the seat. He grabs his espresso and starts strutting through the living room, loudly pondering about LOEY’s apparent mails, pivoting around the coffee table.

“And he says he’ll give you total artistic freedom, Kyungja, _total artistic freedom_ , and he wants a large back piece! I’ll tell you, I’m no expert, but this sounds like the client you were looking for to relieve you from your _horrendous_ drought! And just _imagine_ what it’ll be like to tattoo your star, your _bias!_ ”

“Baek,” Kyungsoo wheezes, eyes flying over Chanyeol’s latest mail.

_Dear D.O._ , it reads, _I’m sorry for spamming you with mails, but when I discovered your work, I knew you’d be the artist I’d been looking for the whole time. I’m not gonna ramble away too much here, but I can say as much: I’d be an honor to be the canvas for your next project. I’ll be more than willing to offer you my back to your free disposal. I’m looking forward to your reply. Best, Chanyeol._

Kyungsoo is stunned, the heat in his cheeks won’t dissipate. He almost startles when Baekhyun places a hand on his shoulder, lightly squeezing.

“I’m guessing I’ll have to postpone our next exhibition for a bit?”

Kyungsoo clears his throat, leaning back into the chair. “I suppose so,” he murmurs, already thinking about motives connected to the things he feels when he listens to LOEY’s music. It sure helps that the album is still playing. “Thank you, Baek. I owe you one.”

“That’s my man,” Baekhyun cheers, letting himself plop onto the couch. “So, let’s compose a reply that’s endorsing and just the right amount of fanboying!”

Kyungsoo regrets his words already.

* * *

Drafting the mail takes almost an hour because Baekhyun has an unreasonable amount of arguments why the mail must be stating that Kyungsoo loves Chanyeol’s music, and Kyungsoo blocks all attempts at incorporating comments about it. At least he manages to include all relevant information, suggesting they trade ideas first before they meet up, also stating that the tattoo will probably take two whole days to finish if everything goes according to plan.

When it’s time for lunch, Baekhyun finally leaves Kyungsoo to the open window of the new mail, having changed his wording enough times to be thoroughly annoying. However, he seems genuinely happy to have helped find him a new client. Still, he includes a promise to force him upon another exhibition sometime in the future anyway.

Kyungsoo busies himself with listening to music the rest of the day, sketching away on his iPad what comes to mind.

Of course, he starts to research the web for pics of Chanyeol and is almost overwhelmed by the mass of photos, fan art, and videos. He never paid real attention to who LOEY was, so he’s surprised to discover that he’d been an idol, and a huge hit as well. He seems to have left his idol agency a few years ago and set up his studio, making a living of producing songs and performing them for himself as an independent artist.

He’s even more successful than he’d been as an idol, apparently.

Also, as is obvious, Chanyeol had grown up under the eyes of the cameras, and while he’d been a cute boy when he’d first debuted, he’d positively grown into his features by now, coming about as a man as attractive as must be possible.

Judging by the most recent photos, the way his broad shoulders and toned physique look, the way he carries himself, all with a face with boyish handsomeness, sharp jaw, round eyes, sweetest smile, and immaculately styled brown hair, he’d grown exactly into what Kyungsoo would describe as his ideal type. Ah, _fuck._

 _Maybe_ he’s thought that someone who makes such beautiful music naturally would also reveal some kind of amiable, easy-going personality, but then Chanyeol’s good looks had thrown him somehow off. If his music _and_ his appearance are that exceptional, his personality just cannot be so pleasant as well, right? But the interviews and shows he’s watched so far seem to prove him wrong. 

He’s never liked _that_ so much.

He loses himself in mindless doodles and experiments in _psd_ and _svg_ files, finding a black and white shot of Chanyeol, his back to the camera, shirtless, and he paints his design ideas on his strong back with his blackest digital ink.

After watching some Netflix with dinner, he realizes with a startle that his reply to Chanyeol still sits in the drafts folder, unsent.

It’s almost 2 am by now.

He reads it over again, checks his signature, and if he’s spelled everything correctly, and clicks _Send_.

When he’s back from taking the dishes into the kitchen, he sees the little icon that indicates he’s already received a reply.

Oh wow, this late at night?

_Dear D.O., OH MY GOD!_ Chanyeol starts, fortunately refraining from all caps for the rest of the mail. _You’re making my dream come true_ , Chanyeol continues, and Kyungsoo cannot stop the corners of his mouth turning slightly up.

_I’m so happy you replied, and I’m even happier you really have time for me!! I’m so looking forward to your ideas, please send them anytime you want, but I’m sure I’ll like them anyway. Everything I’ve seen so far of your work is so amazing, seriously, how can you be real?_

Kyungsoo huffs a laugh. He seems excited, good.

_If it’s okay with you I’d take up your offer of coming to your studio next week on Tuesday. Is 9 am okay? Shall I bring something? Please tell me if I can help by providing anything._

_Thank you, dear D.O., I’m so glad, you cannot imagine!! Best, Chanyeol._

Kyungsoo catches his smiling reflection in the windows when he looks up and grimaces. Chanyeol is as polite as they come, and a motivated client as well, and as he’s already some designs ready, he decides to send them to him directly. He also includes his address and states that he doesn’t need to bring anything, adding that he’d better block the whole day and come by well-rested.

Chanyeol’s reply is again almost immediate, gushing about the designs and promising that Kyungsoo can’t do anything wrong and that he’ll be the best client Kyungsoo’s ever had. There are a minimum of ten emojis with heart eyes, and Kyungsoo feels his face flushing imagining their meeting next week.

He’s not only inviting Chanyeol into his studio but also his house, as he’d set up the custom interior for his tattoo appointments when he’d bought the property. They’re going to spend considerable time together, very closely together.

Usually, appointments are strictly business and he plans on keeping it as such with Chanyeol as well, but there’s still the non-negligible fact that he adores Chanyeol’s music, and apparently, his appearance as well.

Kyungsoo goes to bed trying not to spend too much time envisioning the day, Chanyeol, and the miles of skin he’ll be allowed to alter forever by etching his designs and, therefore his feelings, into.

* * *

When the bell rings on Tuesday, Kyungsoo’s pulse speeds up with a burst of adrenaline.

They’d mailed back and forth over the last few days, often late at night, and Chanyeol had liked every design he’d come up with so far. Choosing the final motive will depend on the actual build of Chanyeol’s body, as Kyungsoo is used to applying and drawing the finishing touches of a tattoo directly onto the client’s skin, thus fitting it to their body as best as possible.

His interest is more than piqued, and he feels the itch to draw, design, and tattoo in his fingers to be so strong that he can’t avoid them flexing, stretching, fists balling, then opening, when he makes his way to the door.

Kyungsoo opens the door and—oh _wow_.

The moment he sees it’s actually, really, _Park Chanyeol_ standing on his doorstep, he almost can’t believe his eyes. The man in front of him is even more handsome than in pictures, his dark hair mostly hidden under a basecap, and he’s clad in black sweat pants and a large bomber jacket, white shirt peeking out underneath. On his face is possibly the most handsome smile he’s ever seen on someone, eyes slightly crinkling, cheeks bunched up.

“Hello! You must be D.O.?” he says, holding out a paper bag towards him, bowing low. “I’m Park Chanyeol, it’s so great to finally meet you, wow! Here, I brought some pastries!”

Kyungsoo also bows, taking the outstretched bag from his hands when Chanyeol steps closer.

“Thank you, and yes, I’m Do Kyungsoo,” he says, eyes searching Chanyeol’s face, still smiling sweetly.

Fuck, yes, he’s in trouble.

“Please come in, Chanyeol,” he offers, stepping aside, leading him into his house.

“Oh, wow, this is such a nice place! You live here, as well?”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo smiles, “I like the quiet here. Good for getting inspired.”

“Yes, I can believe that! It’s really nice. Thank you again for accepting me as a client,” Chanyeol gushes, bowing again while simultaneously toeing off his shoes, wiggling out of his jacket and hanging it into the closet Kyungsoo shows him.

“Thank you for allowing me to work on you,” Kyungsoo states as he takes them further into the living room space. “Fancy a coffee before we get started?”

“Oh, that would be so great, thank you!”

Chanyeol follows him over to the kitchen where he sets the pastries down and starts on the coffee. He catches Chanyeol’s eyes flitting over his forearms, following the lines of his tattoos and lingering on his almost completely blackened right arm.

When he sees Chanyeol looking curiously around the rooms he offers him a seat on one of the couches.

“Is espresso okay, or do you want milk, sugar?” Kyungsoo asks, opening his cupboard.

“Espresso is fine, just black, thank you.”

Kyungsoo watches the man wandering through the space from the corner of his eyes, Chanyeol briefly lifting off his cap to smooth his hair down while he looks out the large windows.

He has to consciously focus on the coffee as he’s struck with a bolt of longing to the gut.

Chanyeol looks so good in his living room, strolling over to the wooden paneling and the art that he’s put up there, glancing over the many plants he’s accumulated and cultivated over time. His motions are relaxed; he moves at ease although he’s in a stranger’s house for the first time.

When he pours the espresso into the cups and arranges the pastries (looks like cinnamon and chocolate) onto a platter and turns to get a tablet to set everything onto, Chanyeol is right beside him, warm smile reaching up to his eyes, and he takes the cup of coffee directly from his hand.

They’re only a few inches from one another, and Kyungsoo is halfway frozen in between Chanyeol and the counter, looking in Chanyeol’s brown eyes and he holds his breath for a moment. Chanyeol’s gaze is heavy with something, and he sees it drifting over his face, down his neck where inked rays of light wind through hangul and claws of a dragon decorate his skin, disappearing into his collar, and they’re so _close_ , he can smell his fresh cologne and almost _feel_ the heat radiating from him.

“Can I help you?” Chanyeol murmurs, taking the plate from him and moving over to set it onto the couch table.

Kyungsoo forces a breath into his lungs and follows him.

He catches Chanyeol’s gaze briefly sliding over his figure, likely checking him out, and he hides a smile behind his cup. Baekhyun might have been right again when stating that his black jeans with rips over the knees and the black button-up with rolled-up sleeves would look perfectly artsy-edgy-hot on him. Wanting to impress your admittedly favorite artist/client-to-be was of course worth a little effort, so he may or may not have spent a little more time than normal to style his hair and check his looks.

He sits down opposite of Chanyeol, smiling at him.

“Thank you for the pastries,” Kyungsoo starts. “I hope you’re rested well and this is not your first breakfast today?” he adds with a teasing wink.

Chanyeol very obviously flushes, pink creeping into his ears.

“No, I had a healthy breakfast earlier today. These are just some welcome-treats. I wanted to start on the right foot. I’m going to be taking up a whole lot of your time.” He lifts the cap again, smoothing his hair again in a nervous habit, before putting it on again.

“All right, just wanted to make sure,” Kyungsoo replies, taking a bite of a cinnamon bun. The flavor is superb, the pastry freshly baked and the sweetness bursts over his tongue pleasantly.

Chanyeol watches his expression, obviously content with his reaction, and takes another sip of coffee.

“Ah, I’m so happy. But I’m a little nervous as well. My other tattoos are just so small, and I’m so excited about what we’ll do for the final design today. I of course liked all of the variations you made, but the last one is my favorite.”

“I thought so,” Kyungsoo laughs. “I’ll draw the final design onto your skin directly, so we’ll have to find out. But this way it’ll fit way better than just transferring a stencil, although I will use stencils for some parts as well. We’re going to work together on the design as long as it takes until you are completely happy with it. This step is really important, so you can take any time you want, I don’t mind.”

Chanyeol wiggles his knees briefly, grinning. “Oh, that’s so awesome. You’re my favorite artist! I know I’m still new in the art scene in general, but whether it’s a tattoo or a canvas, your work is magnificent! I’ve been in love since I saw the first piece by you, I think it was at your exhibition two years ago. The one titled _Piece of the Snow_? I just love it _so much_ ,” Chanyeol reveals. The flush has crept onto his face by now, giving him a healthy glow and making him look so enticing Kyungsoo can’t help leaning forward a bit, feeling warm under his collar.

Kyungsoo’s hands flex again without conscious effort. He’ll have to keep a tight rein on his infatuation.

Chanyeol makes it _so_ hard, though.

Kyungsoo briefly considers his next words before deciding to just go for it. He leans back, straightening his collar under Chanyeol’s watchful eyes.

“Then let me make it even by telling you that the album I listened most to in the last few weeks has been _1 Billion Views_. I hope that doesn’t make it awkward, but I like your music,” he divulges, carefully observing Chanyeol, and although his cheeks seem to redden further, he obviously revels in the praise.

“Oh wow—that’s—that’s great! Ah, you got me there – I’m a bit speechless,” Chanyeol wheedles, embarrassed but thoroughly charmed, scooting to the edge of the seat, sweet smile, large eyes, practically glowing, and Kyungsoo wants to see him unraveling at the seams.

Oh, he’s in trouble. Just how is he supposed to make it through two full days of tattooing? Usually, he’s not that susceptible to cute boys.

After they finish their little break, Kyungsoo shows Chanyeol over to his workspace, pointing out the bench where he’ll be lying on getting the tattoo, shows him his setup of prepared supplies, colors, markers, and machines to reassure him of his professionalism and to ease him into the surroundings.

When Chanyeol has fetched his backpack from his car to pull out a tablet and a bottle of water and Kyungsoo has got him to fill out some forms for health information, he hovers in the doorframe and watches Kyungsoo get his stuff ready.

“So, how do we start this?” he wonders when Kyungsoo has set up his iPad and sorts through his drafts.

“Want to choose a playlist? I don’t mind any, but something relaxing maybe?” he asks Chanyeol, letting him select something on his laptop. “Thanks. First I’m going to draw the basic shape directly onto your back, then we plan and arrange, and then I’m going to make the stencils and put them on. At last, I connect and finish the design, and then we’re ready to go.”

“Awesome, oh, I’m so flashed I’m finally getting a tattoo by you… oh my,” he rambles, looking so grateful it should be criminal. Kyungsoo can’t remember the last time a client had been fanboying so hard and did not even try to conceal it anyhow.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo smirks, one brow raised, “We can start. If you want to take your shirt off that would be perfect,” he teases, and Chanyeol struggles to comply, setting his cap on the bench and stripping his shirt off in a fluent motion, revealing a perfect torso, all lean muscle and smooth, bronzed skin, and Kyungsoo has to wrench his eyes away for a second before he loses control of his facial expression.

When he allows himself to look again at Chanyeol he notices his broad chest, defined pecs and enticing collar bones, muscled arms, and his sweatpants riding low on his hips. Following his gaze, Chanyeol tugs at the waistband, raising it slightly higher with a little cough, before he turns and presents his back to Kyungsoo.

His shoulder blades move under the skin, and Chanyeol looks at him over his shoulder.

“Like this?”

“Ah, yeah,” Kyungsoo manages, reaching out to touch carefully, and when he connects to Chanyeol’s soft skin, a shiver runs through the man’s body, Chanyeol giving a startled gasp.

“Sorry, my hands might be cold,” he calms, and really, Chanyeol’s skin feels so warm, so smooth. He slides his hand briefly up from his lower back to his shoulder blades before catching himself, and Chanyeol tenses noticeably.

“Not, it’s not that,” he croaks before clearing his throat. “Just surprised. Your hands are warm.”

Kyungsoo grabs some paper towels and sprays them with some mild soap solution.

“I’m gonna prepare your skin first before I draw on it,” he narrates, touching the towels to Chanyeol’s skin. He smooths them over his whole back, starting at his nape, and slides them down to his lower back. He pats everything dry and repeats the procedure with antiseptic.

Chanyeol is standing perfectly still. When Kyungsoo uncaps his red marker and grabs Chanyeol’s shoulder, pressing down slightly, he automatically lowers his shoulders into a relaxed slump.

Kyungsoo hums in approval, marking the middle of his upper back with a cross, then stepping back. With his hand stretched out he draws a vertical line exactly over his spine. The lower his marker slides, the more Chanyeol’s shoulders tense again.

“Relax,” Kyungsoo advises, “I’m just drawing the proportions. This will probably take a little…”

“Ah, okay,” Chanyeol says, little huff audible.

The slope of his back is tempting. Kyungsoo measures the span just above his waistline and imagines fitting his fingers there out of another intent than just for applying paint. Ah, fucking fuck.

Mentally shaking himself, he proceeds lining Chanyeol’s back into sections, stepping back in between, appreciating his draft on Chanyeol’s back before stepping closer again and adding more lines and slopes.

After transferring the stenciled parts, then connecting the designs roughly with a blue marker, he draws over the red guidelines he’s set before and adds a few swirls, filling some spaces with wave-like structures, staying abstract but organic.

Thirty minutes in, he’s confident it will work out and taps Chanyeol’s arm.

“Here,” he motions to the large mirror, “I’m done so far. What do you think? I’m going to add details while tattooing as I see fit, so you have to trust me a bit on that one,” Kyungsoo smirks, watching Chanyeol’s eyes get larger and his expression change from astonishment to joy to excitement.

“Oh, Kyungsoo! Wow!” he exclaims, “I thought your sketches were awesome, but _this_ —my god!”

“I assume you like it?”

Chanyeol turns back to him, smiling broadly, eyes sparkling. “ _Yes!_ Oh my god, I love it already!”

“Okay, then I’ll take a photo for reference, in case I wipe away some of the lines later, but then we can start. You can lie down and make yourself comfortable.”

“This is so great!” Chanyeol grins happily, heaving his body onto the bench, feet dangling off, but seemingly at ease.

Kyungsoo lets his gaze slide over Chanyeol’s decorated back languidly, taking in the way he lies on his workbench like he’s here to relax, face turned towards him, watching, and he tears his gaze away to prepare the little caps, filling them with black color, taking out a set of sterilized needles and after disinfecting his hands and pulling on gloves, he sets his machine up with the first needle.

He sits down and tugs the bench towards him, lowering it a fraction and smooths a bit of Vaseline on the skin over Chanyeol’s left shoulder blade. Testing the machine, he braces himself on the man’s back, the buzzing noise filling the room, adding an exciting industrial touch to the soft music that Chanyeol chose.

“You ready? Everything good?” he asks Chanyeol, peering over.

“Yep,” Chanyeol smiles, eyes crinkling.

“Okay. Then it’s on.”

He smears the Vaseline over the stencil once more, and starting the machine, holds the needle down and draws the first little line.

“All right?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol gasps, “All good!”

Kyungsoo smiles to himself and gets to draw the next line. There’s a muscle twitching in Chanyeol’s biceps, and on the next line, when he lifts the needle to dab it in the ink, a soft shudder pulls through Chanyeol’s side.

“Give your body ten minutes or so, then the adrenaline shoots in and it’ll be much more tolerable. Also, whenever you need a pause or a moment, say so and I’ll stop. Although we’re of course doing breaks,” Kyungsoo soothes, sliding another glob of Vaseline onto Chanyeol’s skin.

“Thanks, no problem. I’m just not used to such large tattoos, and I’m so excited,” he huffs, grin broad and a little crooked.

Kyungsoo feels himself also grinning, continuing the lines on Chanyeol’s shoulder and then moving them to his other side. Chanyeol may be the easiest customer he’s had so far, or maybe he’s just biased.

He’d never thought that his favorite artist would one day lie on his workbench, and him being the humblest down to earth person with so much natural charm even underlines his attractiveness. Not to mention how handsome he is, and that he gets to see him half-naked on top.

Being a tattoo artist has seldom had this much appeal besides the art itself.

By the time he’s drawing lines down Chanyeol’s side and towards his lower back, Chanyeol has relaxed notably. The involuntary muscle tension has almost completely subsided, he’s lying completely flat, head to the left, his eyes are half-lidded. Chanyeol’s side is pressed to his chest when he reaches over to let the lines flow over his whole back, and the man still runs hot, skin feeling warm and soft where he feels it through the gloves and his clothes.

Kyungsoo refills his ink, then starts on the parts of the lower back, nearing Chanyeol’s spine.

“Over the spine is often a bit tricky,” he announces when he feels Chanyeol tense, as he pulls the machine over another vertebra, the vibration of the needle resonating off the bone.

Chanyeol gives a soft little gasp, the fingers of his hand curl. They’ve not been talking much over the last one and a half hours, what with Kyungsoo focused on the mess of lines he’d planned on Chanyeol’s skin, and Chanyeol lying there mostly half asleep.

“N—no, it’s okay. Thank you for the warning, though,” he gasps, voice scratchy. He clears his throat.

“I’m just going to finish the outlines of this side, then we can have a little break. After, I’m going to start on the black areas, so that we can retouch them next time when I do the rest as well in case your body hasn’t held all the color.”

“Okay, great.”

Chanyeol sounds a bit pressed, so Kyungsoo rolls his chair back a bit to get a better look at his face.

“Also, if you’re cold, please say so, and I’ll turn the heat up. It’s a natural reaction, so no worries.”

There’s a little flush on Chanyeol’s cheeks, but his eyes are clear and he looks just a little ruffled, otherwise as handsome as before.

Kyungsoo slides another bit of Vaseline over the spot he’s going to ink next, aiding the glide of the needle through the skin. There’s just a little piece left before he’ll give Chanyeol the promised break, and he can’t avoid noticing the smoothness of skin again. The needle slides through his skin like a knife through butter, the lines starkly black, the shine of the Vaseline unearthly and beautiful, but giving him thoughts that are far less pure.

Where he’s already inked the lines it’s already obvious how flattering the design is for Chanyeol’s build and the muscular structure of his back, accentuating his charms to the fullest. He stretches the skin for the needle, the skin sliding mesmerizingly under his gloved fingers, the gel transferring onto his hands. He wipes the line he’s just drawn, the sheen still lingering.

Chanyeol’s body feels warm, and somewhere in the process of continuing the design he’s lain his hand over the roundness of Chanyeol’s ass, the flesh soft and firm, and when he lifts the needle the next time, there’s a full-body tremor shuddering through Chanyeol.

Kyungsoo hesitates for a moment, eyeing Chanyeol’s head, but his eyes are still closed. He dips new ink, then positions his arm exactly over the crack of his ass, and the feel of his arm between Chanyeol’s firm cheeks, warm through the material of his sweats, is probably illegal. Still, he focuses on the design, just two last lines and he can take a breather and get a fucking coffee.

When he announces their break, sitting back, an almost obscene groan is torn from Chanyeol’s lips, unbidden apparently, as the next thing he manages is a gasped ‘ _Sorry_ ’.

Kyungsoo swallows the lump in his throat. He can (and he should!) nurse his dirty thirsty thoughts later, but now he’s going to sit this through like the professional he is and not let himself get distracted by this temptation of a man.

He wipes the tattoo again, smoothing over it with Vaseline.

“Everything okay? You might want to take it easy when you get up, not to stress your bloodstream too much,” he advises, turning away to switch the machine off and pull off his gloves. Chanyeol takes a minute, but then he heaves his body off the bench and goes to sit on it clumsily, and Kyungsoo watches him carefully while stretching his arms and back, the vertebrae in his neck giving a satisfying pop at the bones cracking.

“Yes, I’m good. Wow, never thought how exhausting it can be to just lie around,” he jokes, face flushed and dark hair a mess. Kyungsoo has to force himself to keep his gaze on his eyes and not let it stray down Chanyeol’s firm torso, rosy dark nipples peaked.

“Want a coffee or something?” he asks instead, getting up and leaving Chanyeol to follow him.

“Yeah, and some water would be nice.”

“No problem. Please help yourself, I’ll start the machine.”

Kyungsoo finds him in front of the full-length mirror in the entryway a bit later, where he’s admiring the tattoo.

“Like what you see?” Kyungsoo teases, hiding a grin in his cup.

“Oh, Kyungsoo, _of course!_ It already looks so awesome! I can’t wait for the finished piece… though it already looks _so good!”_

“Great, thank you, Chanyeol. Coffee’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” Kyungsoo says, pointing over his shoulder and letting Chanyeol pass so he can watch his back while he goes over.

And _wow_.

His back had been beautiful when he’d first seen it, but his tattooed skin’s just something else. The lines he’s etched into his back seem to have a life of their own, moving over the muscles and bones and flesh with each motion Chanyeol makes, be it a step or twist when he takes the coffee or a breath that expands his ribs.

Chanyeol turns then, and their eyes lock.

Kyungsoo often has found it funny to just hold gazes with others, strangers or friends alike, just to feel the need to look away but endure it and keep on, until the other had eventually relented, but with Chanyeol it’s not mere fun, it’s intense awareness and interest. Though he’s been told that he’s hard to read, he’s not sure if his gaze is actually completely neutral but more, like, trying to seduce.

 _For fucks sake,_ Chanyeol’s a _client_.

Chanyeol is also still looking.

“Is this a staring match?” he rumbles, and Kyungsoo is so abruptly pulled from his thoughts that he blinks and looks away. Ah, fuck.

“Maybe,” he quips, setting his cup back and grabbing two bottles of water. “Let’s go on?”

“Yessir,” Chanyeol says, cheerily, nudging Kyungsoo’s back playfully on their way and Kyungsoo has to fight the urge to do something unrevised.

They go through another two hours without so much but a few breaks where Chanyeol needs to fumble for his phone or a sip of water. Somewhere along, Chanyeol expresses his interest in Kyungsoo’s work and art again and they get talking about Kyungsoo’s development as an artist, and Kyungsoo thinks that while they're at it, he’ll also give in to some of his curiousness about Chanyeol’s music. Chanyeol tells him about how starting his own music business with his studio and making a name as a producer had finally felt like a breakthrough for him, being able to completely follow his dream and become independent of the whole idol business.

Kyungsoo is amazed when he learns about the restrictions and limitations Chanyeol had had to face being an idol, which had of course contributed to the development of his hardworking personality but had often almost suffocated him with things he did not want to do but had to pull through nevertheless.

Realizing your dream as an artist is something Kyungsoo can sympathize with, and when their topics change towards movies next it is quickly becoming apparent that they operate on the same wavelength, although Chanyeol is quicker considering hyping up to some of the movies they both have seen.

Still, they have so much in common that Kyungsoo is even more surprised at how _well_ they resonate, which increases Chanyeol’s attractiveness tenfold. Kyungsoo has never had many friends or easily made connections, but this seems to develop towards the exception that proves the rule.

Chanyeol then asks if he’s already seen the latest movie by Bong Joonho and jokingly suggests they order pizza later and watch it together. Kyungsoo doesn’t think long about it and agrees immediately, but Chanyeol is stunned by his reply and he gasps an apology, as Kyungsoo needn’t spend his precious free time with a client he’s just met, and that he’s just teased and doesn’t want to impose, but Kyungsoo finds he doesn’t mind reveling in Chanyeol’s company; on the contrary.

When they near the four-hour mark, Kyungsoo is in the finishing touches of the thick black lines and strokes on Chanyeol’s lower back. His shoulders feel tense with the way he’s perched over Chanyeol, and his eyes would probably play tricks on him if he hadn’t taken care to set in his contacts this morning. The strain of tattooing is not only hard on the person getting the tattoo, but also on the artist as well. Perhaps some mere minutes and he’s done.

The last hour of tattooing seems to be increasingly painful also for Chanyeol, as Kyungsoo can tell with each second he leaves the needle off too long, Chanyeol’s muscles twitch with each renewed start of a line, making it difficult to draw exact lines. His shoulders are taut and Kyungsoo presses down over his back stronger, to hold him in place more. Currently, he has Chanyeol’s hips and his ass in a rather tight embrace, his left hand splayed over his spine while he etches the ink into his skin.

Chanyeol gives little gasps and groans almost constantly, and when Kyungsoo looks, he has his eyes tightly closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

“Hold on, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo murmurs, “Just a few minutes more, then we’re done for today.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol groans, “ _Kyungsoo._ ”

“Yes?” he asks, lifting the machine off to smooth over Chanyeol’s back.

“Don’t stop, just—, _ah_ , don’t mind me—“

“Okay, almost done,” Kyungsoo says, resuming the machine, pressing his arm over and between the firm cheeks of Chanyeol’s ass.

“Ah,” Chanyeol breathes, and a tremble wracks his body. Kyungsoo waits for a second and then fills the rest of the space in, wiping the blood away, sliding over it with gel, and drawing another set of broad strokes. He feels Chanyeol’s cheeks clench, muscles quivering, and it would be criminally hot if it weren’t for how Chanyeol’s in pain so much he seems to conjure a massive effort to hold still. His body is warm, and still, goosebumps raise on his upper back.

It would be so tempting and so fucking inappropriate to just press his arm a little _deeper_ , rub it a little _further_ , but he needs to keep his wrist still for the last few lines.

“And… that’s it for today! You’ve made it,” Kyungsoo announces and lifts his arm a little regretfully, rolling his chair back.

“ _Gods,_ ” Chanyeol slurs, “’m gonna need a moment—“

“No problem, I’ll start cleaning up.”

Chanyeol’s body gives another shiver when he watches, and he turns to his table, feeling the need to give him privacy to compose himself. He’s faced with people when the pain has brought them to their limits, so it’s just natural for him to busy himself with stuff until they have calmed down a bit.

Also, he needs the time to talk himself down as well, as the conflicting signs of pleasure and pain Chanyeol gives him make his head dizzy.

“You can keep lying down a bit if you want. Don’t rush it, this was major stress for your body.”

“Fuck, okay,” Chanyeol replies, huffing and letting his arms flop down. When he’s finally managed a sitting position Kyungsoo stands up and goes over to him, peering into his face. He’s concerned, he does not want a client to feel unwell or possibly faint, so he takes his time to check on them carefully.

“Everything good?”

Chanyeol holds his gaze with a little huff, his hands are clenched in his lap and he wrings his fingers. His pupils are dilated, cheeks flushed, and lips bitten red. Still, these are normal reactions, as the receptors for pleasure and pain are closely linked. Chanyeol’s eyes dip down slowly, and Kyungsoo feels himself straighten up.

“Feel better now?” he inquires, wearing a teasing little smirk.

Chanyeol huffs a laugh. “Yes,” he says, and then slides a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t thought the pain would feel… that intense,” he adds sheepishly, blushing even more.

“You’ve done a great job, though. Sitting through so many hours is not easy, I understand.”

“Ah, yes. I mean—can I ask you something?”

Kyungsoo nods, curious.

“Is it—is it normal that it feels almost— _good_?” Chanyeol murmurs, tilting his head a little.

Kyungsoo gives a warm laugh, surprised. “Well, for the brain there are similar chemical signals for pleasure and pain, it’s the same hormone. Studies even show that people who can’t feel pain, for example, because of paralysis, also can’t feel pleasure… in a certain way,” he explains, raising a brow slowly. This could be interesting. “Though we can always stop and continue another time if it gets too much.”

“Ah, no! I meant it. It felt weird at first, but later it was— _so_ fucking good,” Chanyeol wheedles, voice trailing off, obviously embarrassed.

Kyungsoo huffs a laugh. He hasn’t had a client before who’d liked the pain, most of them only get to the stage of being able to tolerate it more or less, none before had so openly spoken about liking the needle slicing through the skin.

“It’s perfectly normal,” he reassures Chanyeol while he strips the workbench of the hygienic foil. So the reactions Chanyeol’s body had exhibited weren’t purely because he’d been in pain, but moreover because he’s really liked it.

Though this gives him no reason to act on whatever interest _he_ might have concerning Chanyeol, as they’re primarily in a work-based relationship. Gods, why does it sound so awkward even in his head?

“We need to wait a few minutes for the tattoo to bleed out a little more, then I’m going to put on some calming and repairing lotion and wrap you up in foil and you’re set.”

“Ah, thank you so much. I’m sorry if I’ve overshared or something—“

“No problem,” Kyungsoo interrupts him, smiling while he puts his machines into the bin for sterilization. Chanyeol looks relieved, happy with the adrenaline and he seems overwhelmed with a smile to rival the sun when he observes Kyungsoo’s work in the mirror again.

Kyungsoo preens a bit with the knowledge that _he_ ’s made Chanyeol so happy.

“So, what pizza do you want?”

  
  


* * *

It’s three weeks later when Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol in person again.

They’d scheduled the second appointment for finishing the tattoo along with the first one, and Kyungsoo would be lying if he’d said he hadn’t been looking forward to today.

In the aftermath of their first session, they’d spend time over pizza and two movies to get to know each other better and Kyungsoo cannot be bothered to think he’d been the only one interested in possibly something more than a tattoo appointment, as Chanyeol had fanboyed over his paintings in the spacious living room for what had been the third or fourth time that day.

The movies had been more of a distraction than serving as entertainment purpose as Kyungsoo couldn’t remember much about the plot; he’d instead spent some time sneaking further prolonged glances at Chanyeol while they’d been almost constantly talking. Chanyeol had taken upon recommending some of his favorite musicians and producers that Kyungsoo hadn’t been aware of, and by the first half of the second movie, they’d muted the thing and listened through Chanyeol’s all-time favorite playlist instead.

The clock had struck 11 when Chanyeol had fetched his things and made for the way home. Kyungsoo had noticed the exhaustion creep into the little creases below his eyes, the way Chanyeol had winced when he turned his back too harshly, enduring such a large tattoo and facing so many contrasting feelings finally taking their toll on him.

He’d held Chanyeol’s jacket for him when he’d struggled to put it on and let his hand linger on his shoulder for maybe a moment too long to be inconspicuous, the little tremble that had run through his frame and the way he’d leaned into Kyungsoo tempting him to the point of torture.

Still, he’d not wanted to push anything while they had a project to finish and had not wanted to risk their blooming friendship – cause that’s what it had to be, right? _Something_ teasing on the verge for more, if you’d ask him.

* * *

Now, when he’s going for the door, he tells himself to closely observe his feelings. Over the last weeks, they’d sometimes messaged, Chanyeol keeping him up to date with his tattoo in his straightforward way of communicating, and he’d been on the receiving end of several mirror selfies of Chanyeol’s perfectly healing, perfectly sculpted back.

Chanyeol is sweet even when texting, just like in persona, and he’d anticipated today with so much want that he’d had trouble distinguishing anxiety from excitement.

He’d paid special attention to dressing himself carefully earlier, choosing a boxy t-shirt that’s just short enough to show a sliver of artfully inked skin above the waistline of his black jeans when he moves, lines of black inked leafy tendrils hugging his belly and hips, slithering down into his jeans and up his concealed torso. He hadn’t been able to insert his contacts this morning as his eyes had hurt too much, so he rightens his glasses one last time before he opens the door to Chanyeol.

It feels like they both hold their breath the moment their eyes meet, and Kyungsoo nervously tugs the door open wider, beckoning him in with a breathed greeting.

“Hi,” Chanyeol answers, holding out a bag from a bakery again. “Figured not to break with traditions,” he smirks, flushing under Kyungsoo’s gaze.

Chanyeol looks even better than his memory had projected. He’s dressed up a bit, his long legs in light-wash jeans, white button-down under a grey hoodie. His dark hair is smoothly styled to the side off his forehead; like real boyfriend material, Kyungsoo’s brain supplies.

“Thanks,” he smiles and leads them into the kitchen, starting on some coffee. “How are you feeling today?”

“Great! I’ve been _so_ looking forward to today,” Chanyeol says, leaning against the counter next to him.

“Me too. I think we’ll finish the tattoo today if everything goes well. I feel confident,” Kyungsoo proclaims, glancing at Chanyeol.

“I think so, too. But I was also excited to see you again,” Chanyeol continues, heart obviously on his sleeve.

Kyungsoo turns to him, eyes wide. How that sounds out loud, fuck. Something warm and pervasive blooms in his chest, but he’s quick to rein it in.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Chanyeol laughs, head tilted, ears red. “I mean it! The last time was great, and you’re so cool! I’d never dared to imagine my favorite artist is such a magnificent person,” he soldiers on and breathes out another insanity. “You look great, by the way. The glasses suit you.”

Kyungsoo feels his heart beat out of his chest and pours the coffee with trembling fingers. This dude! Reducing him to— _this!_ , fuck. Today will be a challenge.

“Ah,” he clears his throat, “Stop kidding.” On another beat, he daringly adds, “But thank you. You, too.”

Chanyeol just smiles warmly at him, taking his cup of coffee, eyes twinkling conspiratorially at Kyungsoo’s crooked grin.

 _Fuck._ Today will be more than just a challenge.

* * *

Three hours and a break later, Kyungsoo is immersed in his work again, able to block out the bodily distraction that Chanyeol, miles of soft, smooth inked skin, provides on his workbench.

When he’s tattooing, or when he’s creating art, he’s so zoned out that everything else just falls away. It’s a blessing for his work, but a curse for the things his body wants, be it a break on his strained shoulders and eyes or a moment to appreciate Chanyeol shuddering under his needle in a haze of pain and pleasure.

Kyungsoo wrangles Chanyeol through three more hours, the last one putting a major strain on his work bubble, as Chanyeol’s groans are almost impossible to block out. His little whimpers pierce his guts, his brain still supplying that pain must be the reason for Chanyeol’s agony, not pleasure.

At last, Kyungsoo is satisfied with the design and his work, the filled-in spaces, blackened shadows, lines, and dots. He rolls his chair back and grabs the ointment to smooth over the tattoo once again to check for missed spots.

“I think we’re done, Chanyeol,” he finally concludes, smoothing the gel on the man’s back.

Chanyeol whimpers with each slide of his gloved fingers over each muscle, each circle his fingers draw eliciting another soft groan.

“ _Ah,_ ” he manages, out of breath, “ _Kyungsoo…_ ” He shivers on the bench, feet trembling, hips shaking.

“Everything okay?”

“Ah, _fuck,_ yes, ‘Soo,” Chanyeol whines, and when Kyungsoo catches a glimpse of his face, blissed-out, lips parted, eyes closed, a strong bolt of longing shoots down his spine.

He presses his fingers down a little firmer, sliding a bit more deliberately over his back.

“’Soo, I’m— _m’ sorry_ …”

“Does it feel good?” Kyungsoo dares to ask, voice low. The air in the room feels heavy with something, the scent of disinfectant strong in the air but there’s also the undercurrent that’s Chanyeol, his skin, his cologne. There’s still music playing in the background and were they not in the situation of a tattoo appointment, the prospect would be extremely tempting.

“Fuck, _yes_ , ah— _yes,_ feels _amazing,_ ” Chanyeol gasps, fingers balling into fists when Kyungsoo, hand steady, pushes his fingers into his shoulders. “Don’t— _please, don’t stop_.”

Kyungsoo almost chokes on a breath. Fuck. _God_ , Chanyeol.

“You want me to make you feel good?” he murmurs, suppressed want and lust hitting him suddenly and full force. Chanyeol’s incredible, and Kyungsoo’s just as incredibly turned on as him.

“Please, please _touch me_ , Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol whines, arching his back into Kyungsoo’s fingers. “Want this since—since the last time,” he gulps down air, “Was—was scared to ask, but you—”

Kyungsoo feels high upon a cliff, below him the heavens, and he’s just one little step away from breaking, from letting go of his tight composure, from finally giving in to what he’s wanted since the start as well.

“And then you tattooing felt so good, _oh god,_ I didn’t even know! And you are so goddamn hot, what with your tattoos and, _fuck_ , your eyes, and you’re so fucking out of my league and I don’t know if I even have a chance,” Chanyeol rambles now, neck twisting to look at Kyungsoo.

“God, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo mutters, stunned by his bold admission.

“But I want to. _God,_ Kyungsoo, I want you _so bad._ ”

And Kyungsoo tips over.

He grabs Chanyeol’s shoulders, fingers pressing above the trapezius, thumbs digging below his nape, and he falls forward, touching his lips to Chanyeol’s nape. He smells _amazing,_ his skin is hot, and he feels blood rushing in his ears. He kisses to the side of his neck, bites the edge of his jaw, and with a sigh, he connects his lips to Chanyeol’s. They feel incredible, soft, slightly damp, and the moan Chanyeol presses into his mouth shoots a crackle of electricity through his body.

The angle is awkward, but Chanyeol pushes himself up from the bench, and there’s a brief struggle, and then Chanyeol’s arms are around him and they’re really kissing, hot, frantic, and open-mouthed, and his mouth feels fantastic, his tongue wet, and he pushes his in harder, gripping the man’s shoulders, tilting his head back, until Chanyeol rips his mouth away with a loud moan.

“Fuck, Chanyeol, you’re amazing,” Kyungsoo murmurs into the skin on Chanyeol’s jaw, sucking little kisses down the column of his throat, letting his teeth tug the soft flesh below his ear. Chanyeol drives him _crazy_ , the little noises he makes, the way he arches into his embrace, holding his body towards him, angling his head to give him better access.

Chanyeol’s hands roam across his back, he feels them sliding down, down, until they reach the end of his shirt, and his fingers tease below, the first touch like igniting a fire.

He tears his teeth from Chanyeol’s flesh and pulls back a little, watching Chanyeol’s dazed state, his eyes half-lidded, mouth open, lips shiny, his chest heaving. He has to take a breath for a moment, he’s just short of being overwhelmed. Chanyeol’s slacking on his workbench, his abs clenched, and his jeans hide nothing about his feelings towards their whole endeavor.

Still, Chanyeol’s just gotten a fresh tattoo, the lines on his back may still bleed a little, and Kyungsoo has to make a conscious effort to remember he’s also responsible for him as his client at this moment, still.

“Chanyeol, I’ve to care for your tattoo first,” he starts, and at Chanyeol’s slight pout he grabs his arms more firmly. “Let me just put on some ointment, okay? I don’t want to interfere with the healing process.”

“But Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol wheezes, tipping his chin onto his chest and peering at him from below his lashes, bottom lip tugged in between his teeth, “Ah, I want—can we—”

Kyungsoo grabs Chanyeol’s jaw with gloved fingers, the black material presenting a stark contrast to his skin, and he tilts his face up, and with a look into his eyes, then to his lips, he goes in again, kissing Chanyeol with all the feelings he’s accumulated over the past weeks to reassure him that this is what he wants, too. “Of course we can,” he growls, “And we will.”

Chanyeol lets out a soft moan as if punched and lets himself be manhandled back onto his belly onto the bench.

Kyungsoo strips off his gloves with a snap, huffing a small laugh and pushing his fingers through his hair.

He looks at Chanyeol’s back, then goes to wash his hands again and pulls on new gloves. He scoops a large amount of the soothing ointment out of a tub with a sterile spatula and then wipes Chanyeol’s back down with fresh paper towels. Chanyeol groans.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he soothes, “You really got me going crazy.” He dabs his fingers into the gel and starts spreading it onto Chanyeol’s freshly-inked back.

Chanyeol laughs between gasps. “’Soo, _you’re_ the one driving me crazy since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Stop with the unnecessary complimenting, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo admonishes, but there’s no heat behind his words. He feels his face flush nonetheless.

“Not unnecessary,” Chanyeol murmurs into his arms, not hiding a broad smirk.

Kyungsoo slides his hands over Chanyeol’s back maybe more firmly than totally useful, but he likes the reactions too much to care to stop. He makes sure he’s reached each new line, that the gel is not applied too thickly, but just right.

After two minutes, he’s sure Chanyeol is imperceptibly rutting down into the bench in little shivery thrusts and he takes great care to massage the ointment into the little dips next to his spine, spanning his fingers to his hips, thumbs digging in, holding him down.

Chanyeol moans, then, quietly, and Kyungsoo has to lean down again to touch his lips to the shell of his ear, softly kissing and teasing with his teeth. Chanyeol twists his head away with a chuckle then, straining and reaching for a kiss. Who is Kyungsoo to deny him? He pecks him sweetly on his pink lips, once, twice, then kisses him properly again, until Chanyeol’s laugh morphs into a low groan again. He wiggles imperceptibly, little shaky pushes against the bench. 

Kyungsoo feels a rush of heat settle low in his belly, tingles shooting down his spine and between his legs.

“Fuck, Chanyeol.”

“Ahh, yess—”

The rip of the clingfilm is loud, shattering through the atmosphere, but Kyungsoo cannot stall on this any longer. He rips two more pieces of the foil, then grabs the tape and fixes the clingfilm to Chanyeol’s sides and shoulders in what must be record time. Two last strips wrap the design on his lower back, and then he’s snapping off his gloves again, grabbing Chanyeol’s belt with bare fingers.

“Chanyeol,” he groans, feeling his dick filling out his pants, heat pulsing. “Promise me, tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”

Chanyeol whines in sheer need, pushing his ass slightly up.

“No—I mean _yes_ , I’ll say, but I doubt— _ah!_ ”

Kyungsoo’s hands are on Chanyeol’s round ass in seconds, and he kneads his cheeks through the rough material of his jeans.

He pushes his hands between Chanyeol’s hips and the bench, tugging, pulling him up, until Chanyeol’s struggled up onto his knees, braced himself on his elbows. He fumbles with the belt and then the button, unzips the jeans and pushes his fingers into the material, into his underwear.

“Okay?” he asks, and when Chanyeol nods enthusiastically, he pulls and pushes the material down, jeans and boxers in one go, and Chanyeol’s hard cock slaps out of the shorts and onto his belly, and the groan that leaves Chanyeol’s throat is likely as loud as his own at the view of his cock and, _finally,_ his bare ass, in all of its perfection.

“Gods, _Chanyeol,_ your ass is so fucking amazing,” Kyungsoo groans and can’t help himself any longer and just bites harshly into one cheek.

Chanyeol gives a surprised little yell that turns into a broken moan when he licks up towards his lower back, the sting of the last remnants of disinfectant sharp on his tongue.

“’Soo,” Chanyeol pleads, thighs trembling, and Kyungsoo lets his fingers wander around Chanyeol’s body, teasing their way forward until he’s feeling him up, fondling his balls, stroking his cock, fingers gliding over the slippery tip. Chanyeol feels amazing, his flesh hot and heavy in his hand, and when he bites the side of his hip again, another drop of precum spills out and over his fingers.

“’Soo, please, I want—I want you, _please_ , anything, just, _please,_ I want everything,” Chanyeol croaks, rocking his cock into Kyungsoo’s fist, then pushes his ass back, and Kyungsoo feels delirious with how hard he’s in his pants.

“God, Chanyeol, want you,” Kyungsoo manages, opening his own jeans with his free hand, then looks around and fishes for the Vaseline on the table. “But I got no condoms. Let’s save that for next time, baby, okay?” he inquires and tries to get over how needy he sounds, how desperate for another time, for this thing between them being more than just a quick get-off to get it out of their systems, but he didn’t need to worry when Chanyeol desperately moans a litany of curses and “Yes, please, next time, please, fuck me—”

Pressing wet kisses onto the parts of Chanyeol’s back that are free of clingfilm, he's slicking the fingers of his right and climbs onto the bench behind Chanyeol.

He tightens the hold on Chanyeol’s cock and slides his fingers down between Chanyeol’s cheeks, and when his fingers find the puckered hole, he groans in want, Chanyeol whining and pressing back immediately. The tip of his middle finger dips in almost without resistance, and he feels a glob of precum push out of his own dick.

Chanyeol is leaking mostly constantly over his fingers, and he strokes his fingers down his cock, then up, rubbing the tip and pushing his finger deeper into him.

“God, yes, Kyungsoo!”

“So beautiful, _baby,_ you look so perfect with my hands on you,” Kyungsoo murmurs into Chanyeol’s skin, and can’t even be embarrassed at his own words because Chanyeol takes him just so beautifully, responsive to the maximum, and even if he’d had imagined anything like this, it would’ve been eons away from the reality of actually _having_ Chanyeol. He’s so _perfect_ , he doesn’t deserve him _at all,_ but he’ll try his best and maybe, just _maybe_ , Chanyeol will be coming back and this means as much for him as it does for himself.

“Ahh, it’s so _good_ , don’t know how you do it,” Chanyeol gasps, and Kyungsoo can just shower him with more praises on how he looks, how sweet he sounds, how wonderfully receptive he is, how well he takes him, how good he’s being, and Chanyeol sobs into his arms, hips shaking.

Kyungsoo pushes his finger in as deep as he can reach, crooks it downwards and pulls it slowly out. Chanyeol gives a hoarse yell and Kyungsoo knows he’s found his sweet spot. Chanyeol sobs when he pushes against the little pebbled spot again, and he rubs him, deep inside, and agonizes with him when Chanyeol rocks forward into his fist and back onto his hand.

“’Soo, another, please, just one more!”

“Fuck, yes, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo growls and pushes a second finger inside, and on Chanyeol’s next desperate whine, presses his hips against Chanyeol’s backside, rubbing his dick on his cheek, and the choked moan that forces its way out of his throat at _finally, friction_ , is instantly mirrored by Chanyeol.

When he decides to pull his fingers out the man sobs loudly, but then he slicks his dick and pushes it into the space between Chanyeol’s thighs, and the sob morphs into a punched out groan, Chanyeol moaning, his voice already high and hoarse, and he slurs Kyungsoo’s name over and over again.

Chanyeol’s thighs feel fantastic, hot, slick, and the way he clenches them so hard his muscles quiver forces him to the edge faster than he’s imagined.

“’Yeol, _fuck_ , you feel so good, ah—‘m not sure I’ll last long,” he groans, letting his forehead touch Chanyeol’s covered back.

“I—I’m so close, ‘Soo, just—” Chanyeol gasps, and Kyungsoo takes his free arm to push Chanyeol’s back down, thrusting his hips against his ass. When his fingers give the head of his cock a hard squeeze and his dick catches on Chanyeol’s rim for a moment, he pushes a little against his quivering hole, and the threat of really pushing in, _gods_ —if he _could_ —his dick would probably just slide in—just a _little more_ rubbing, just a _little harder_ push, _just_ —

Chanyeol wails at once and his dick twitches in Kyungsoo’s hand and then there’s hot liquid splashing through his fingers. His hole relaxes for the fraction of second and the muscle just dares to give way, and _god_ , that’s when he comes as well.

He pulls back, his hot come spilling between Chanyeol’s cheeks, drops sliding down his inner thighs, and Kyungsoo feels like he’s run over by a freight train. There’s another spurt of come that’s forcing itself out when he witnesses the pleasured sob and full-body shudder of the man under him, giving the head of his cock one last squeeze and pushing his own once again through the mess’ he’s created, _god, what a mess_ , and he’s not come this hard in _ages_ , _fucking_ fuck.

What a temptation this man is, shuddering on his knees before him, and his cock gives a twitch, and if he could he would take Chanyeol to his bed right now and do it again, do it _right_.

“Fuck, Chanyeol,” he huffs, stroking his hand down Chanyeol’s side, and the man sits back on his heels, turning his face to Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo reaches for him, twisting his head back to lock their lips in a soft kiss. They kiss some more until Chanyeol gasps a laugh, but his eyes are soft, and he looks done for.

“Wow,” he breathes, cheeks glowing, chuckling a little. “Suppose I could use a wash down.”

Kyungsoo grins. “Yeah, me too. I can give you some wet wipes, ah, wait,” he says and rushes to tuck himself back into his jeans with a wince, and rummages in the drawers for towels.

The third drawer is a success, and when he turns to hand them to Chanyeol, who’s sitting on his knees on his workbench, his torso, ass and thighs bare, jeans bunched at the knees, back still wrapped in that fucking clingfilm. 

He’s wearing a sweet, but smug smile although his soft dick is still out and there’s Vaseline glistening all over his lower half.

Kyungsoo stops, holding the wipes out mid-air.

“Like what you see?” Chanyeol quips with a wink, stretching a little more backward, and Kyungsoo can’t believe how confident he’s being, but still, he has all right to be, he looks _amazing_.

Kyungsoo gulps. “Chanyeol,” he softly starts. “You always look amazing. But especially now.” He lets his gaze travel over his form once more, drinking in his fill, and he would be lying to himself if he didn’t witness Chanyeol’s cock slowly filling out again.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself,” Chanyeol replies, doing the once over very deliberately, and Kyungsoo feels heat rushing to his face again, despite what they’ve been doing a few minutes before. But what he sees and the look in Chanyeol’s eyes tempt him into doing something he wouldn’t usually, so he pulls the wipes out of reach just when Chanyeol wants to grab them.

He answers his raised brows with a sly smirk.

“I could probably offer you a shower if you want to. Supervise the tattoo stays unharmed and stuff,” he winks.

Chanyeol’s half-stunned expression morphs into a broad grin. He slides off the table, holding onto his jeans and tugging them halfheartedly up. He steps up to Kyungsoo, slides his hand from his shoulder up to his neck, and takes off his glasses with careful fingers. He smooths his thumbs over his eyebrows and bends slightly down to peck his lips, then his nose. Kyungsoo feels butterflies explode in his belly.

“I think that would be the most sensible solution. I dare to suggest I could also indulge your oversight this evening, and possibly, this night, and even maybe, tomorrow?”

Kyungsoo grins. “Yeah, I could be persuaded into recommending that.”

He tugs Chanyeol fully down then and kisses him again, their mouths still wet and lips soft, moving together perfectly, and _yeah_ , this could be a very promising outcome. He’ll do anything to keep it that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please leave kudos or a comment, thank you! 😊
> 
> Please be aware that tattooing is not only an art, but also a craft, and that it has to be performed under highest hygiene standards. Please do not try this at home, and be aware that I’ve worked this fic to the best of my knowledge. Also, the decision to be a tattoo artist or not, to get a tattoo, the choice of design, or to not get a tattoo, are completely free from judgment here, as the opinions portrayed in this fic are neither right nor wrong, just artistic freedom.
> 
> Also: Safe sex always, do not try this at home without proper discussion beforehand.
> 
> Still, Kyungsoo as tattoo artist is so hot, I just couldn’t help myself. Hope you’re also smitten 😊


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